


House Elf Mojo

by IlliumKohaku



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Gen, Harry Potter (mentioned) - Freeform, I did this in about five minutes., Nothing but crack, Sirius Black (mentioned) - Freeform, Walburga Black (mentioned) - Freeform, very short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IlliumKohaku/pseuds/IlliumKohaku
Summary: Ron thinks he can make Kreacher do what he wants. Well. Kreacher has the Mojo, and flair!, to show him the error of his ways.In which Ron is demanding and Kreacher is very very pleased with himself.





	House Elf Mojo

Ronald Weasley stared down at the old and stooped house elf before him. He felt his freckled upper lip curl into a sneer. Oh, how he hated Kreacher. This thing that thought he was better than Sirius, better than Harry. He'd show this house elf. He'd show this elf it's place.

"Kreacher," Ron demanded imperiously "go clean my bedroom." 

Kreacher, quite stunned by the forwardness of this ugly biped muttered, "Kreacher will do no such thing. Filthy blood traitor can clean it's own room, yes it can."

Ron, having had enough of Kreacher's back talk, shouted "You useless old thing!" 

Now Kreacher, bless his shriveled and malicious little heart, did not suffer fools lightghtly and had a distinct flair for the dramatic. And so, with vengeance in his mind and panache in his heart, he screeched   
" Alacazam alacadoo   
The only useless one here, is you!!"  
And with a wave of his old and deceptively fragile arm, Kreacher sends a bolt of pure house elf mojo flying at Ronald. 

Ronald, not having encountered this form of mojo before, is hit straight in the chest. Sending him flying onto his back with his feet sticking comically in the air and his hair smoking. All with that look on his face. You know what look I'm talking about. His default expression. The 'I have no idea what just happened face'. 

Kreacher, smug and satisfied with his win over the loud mouthed carrot haired blood traitor, ambles his way back to his mistress' kitchen. Where he spends the next hour purposefully searching for the worst foods to present to his filthy, no good, flea bitten master. 

Oh, Mistress would be so pleased with him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very very short little thing I wrote up after the idea got stuck in my head and just would not leave. Groovy baby.


End file.
